


List

by gofordrakgo



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gofordrakgo/pseuds/gofordrakgo
Summary: "Though her skin still beckoned his lips he resigned himself to kneading his knuckles along her spine the best he could in the somewhat awkward position, while they watched the snow falling over the ocean. “Does this count as their first snowfall?” Drew teased quietly."
Relationships: Dr. Drakken/Shego (Kim Possible)
Kudos: 14





	List

The list - scrawled across an entire wall of the kitchen in variously colored erasable markers - had been thoroughly ingrained in his mind for weeks. He knew every possible choice by heart. That didn’t stop him from turning his attention to it as soon as he popped the homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven. Cradling a mixing bowl in one arm, he absentmindedly stirred the ingredients for the icing together as he stared at the list. 

He knew they needed to make a decision, and soon, but he was as indecisive as ever. He just hoped that when the time came they would somehow instinctively know and that they wouldn’t end up regretting the decision later on. 

Arms wrapping around his waist behind him pulled him out of his distracted stupor, and tension he hadn’t noticed faded as he relaxed into her. 

“Good morning,” he greeted just before his wife’s hug loosened. Her hands traveled up to his shoulders, and then to his head where she pushed her fingers through his hair. A pleasant shiver coursed through him when her lips pressed against the nape of his neck. 

Sometimes he missed his long hair and wished that his flower sprouted out of his arms instead, like that one popular arachnid comic book character. Then, perhaps, he wouldn’t have had to cut off his ponytail to stop the vines from tangling in it. When she was there, however, silently reminding him that she liked it the way it was, he forgot all about his petty regrets. Not to mention the fact that even though they had left villainy and begun using their proper names in conversation he really had no interest whatsoever in looking like a _hero_. Even if he technically was one. And even if he was quite proud of his accomplishment. 

Stretching an arm out he let the bowl of frosting fall to the counter so he could turn and give her a proper kiss before she asked, “Have you narrowed it down any yet?” tilting her head toward the list behind him. 

He shook his head and stepped away to take their breakfast out of the oven. “Have you?” he asked in turn as he frosted the piping hot cinnamon rolls. 

She looked more than a little dismayed when she also had to shake her head. Her shoulders slumped. “Nope. Not even a little.”

“Well, we still have some time.” He was trying to be comforting, but he knew it wasn’t much use. The decision had been weighing on them for months. 

“We might not, Drew. You never know.”

With a horrified sense of glee, he realized that she was right. A few weeks earlier than expected wouldn’t be too unusual. He practically collapsed to his knees in front of her and planted a kiss on her stomach. “You two better not even think of coming early. At least let us narrow it down a little first,” he quietly, _almost_ jokingly, begged. She brushed her fingers through his hair again and for a brief moment his eyes fluttered shut and he let his head go limp against her palm. 

Icing splattering against his glasses made him sputter and pull away.

“Those are–,” he cut off his warning at the sight of her raised eyebrow. Of course, she wouldn’t care at all that they were still hot. A breathy laugh left him as he stood to rinse his glasses in the sink.

He’d asked her once if she ever thought of the fact that it might hurt the babies to eat things that were still piping hot. Having a slice of homemade pizza hurled at his face fresh out of the oven was a good way of telling him to shut up, though speaking to a medical professional about it had been more helpful at reassuring him the babies would be fine. 

“The twins like them,” she said, grabbing his hand to let him feel them kicking with all the giddiness as she had the first time they’d moved. 

He grinned, drying his glasses off with his shirt. “I’m so proud.”

Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck, dragging him into an unexpected kiss that tasted like cinnamon and sugar. When she stilled, leaving him delightfully breathless, she murmured, “Guess what?” against his lips. 

He only managed to hum his acknowledgment, greedily focused on her touch and the feel of her lips on his to properly respond. 

“It’s snowing,” she told him, turning her head as she pointed out the window above the kitchen sink. He took the opportunity to turn his desire fueled attention to her neck. For a moment that would have been too short if it had lasted hours, she held him close, letting out a content sigh that warmed him to his core. With a shuddery breath, she gently pushed him away. “Drew. Breakfast. Snow.” She was smiling at him as she said it, though her voice sounded serious.

“Drew… Shea,” he argued, gesturing to her. Before he could move back into her she stuffed a bite of cinnamon roll into his mouth. It was a bit conceited, he was sure, but he instantly let himself be distracted by how delicious it was. 

He just managed to grab a roll for himself before she snapped up the whole tray and retreated into the living room with a wry grin. Staving off a smirk he trailed leisurely after her, shaking his head at the sight of her cross-legged on the ground in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. He paused to watch her for a moment, still flabbergasted nearly a year after he finally worked up the courage to tell her he loved her that, for some reason, she had decided she loved him too. 

Snatching the blanket from the back of the couch on the way, despite how comfortably warm it was inside, he joined her on the floor. She settled herself between his legs almost immediately with her back pressed to his chest and her hands atop his over her stomach.

“I love you,” they synchronized. 

She let out a low moan, muttering some complaint that her lower back was hurting, as it had been doing more and more frequently. Though her skin still beckoned his lips he resigned himself to kneading his knuckles along her spine the best he could in the somewhat awkward position, while they watched the snow falling over the ocean. 

“Does this count as their first snowfall?” Drew teased quietly.

Shea snorted, shaking her head.“If they’re still inside my body, then no.” 

“I can’t wait to meet them,” he said, not at all surprised to find tears welling up in his eyes. He’d cried more in the months since he’d found out he was going to be a father than he had in all the years since the day he dropped out of college. Which, admittedly, had been far too many tears then. Until he’d met her. Someday…someday he would tell her she had been the one who inspired him to seek the world. 

“I’d still like to have names for them,” she countered, rubbing her thumb in circles on his knee. “Even if we named one Petunia like your mother wanted.”

“She thinks she’s so funny,” he muttered. “ _Oh, Drew_ ,” he began mimicking his beloved mother in a falsely high pitched voice, “ _how cute would it be to name a little girl after a flower, just like her daddy?_ ”

Shea patted his knee. “We both know that’s not how that conversation went down… Drewbie.”

“Oh, _haha_ ,” he replied dryly. “ _Yes,_ she did call me Drewbie. But every other word was… um… Every other word was verbatim!”

“That’s a big word!” she just continued to mock. “And you even used it right! I’m so proud.”

“You know, if I didn’t love you as much as I do I’d—”

Shea snorted without letting him even finish his sentence, twisting in his arms as she shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

He managed to glare at her for an entire five seconds before his facade cracked and he grinned. “I really wouldn’t,” he agreed, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Her face softened, in a way he was slowly getting used to. “I love you too,” she murmured, although she didn’t really need to. Surprising though it was, he could practically feel how much she loved him when she smiled so warmly at him the way she was.

Just as they both leaned in for a kiss the loud ringing of what was meant to be an emergency phone interrupted them. With a sigh, he quickly pecked her lips then shot her an apologetic look as he clambered to his feet. She was still giving him that same soft look as he rushed across the room to answer, so he figured it may be safe to guess that she wasn’t upset with him.

Before he could even say hello, his mother’s shrill voice was crooning in his ear. “Have my two babies figured out names for their two babies yet?” 

He sighed, mouthing, “It’s my mother,” to which Shea only smirked and directed her gaze back to the snow. Of course, she wasn’t surprised about who dared to call them so early in the morning. As much as he loved his mother, her once weekly phone calls had turned into more than three times a day since he’d told her about the twins and he was growing unfortunately tired of talking to her. It hadn’t helped that his mother spent the first three months yelling at him for not inviting her to the wedding. He didn’t dare to mention that they’d had it in a panic less than a day after they’d realized Shea was pregnant.

“Good morning, Mother,” he greeted as politely as possible despite his annoyance. “And no. We’re still trying to narrow it down. But we’re getting closer!” That was a lie, but he hoped that it would dissuade her from trying to give him any more suggestions.

It didn’t.

“What about Petunia?” she asked. He could picture the over-excited grin on her face as if she were standing right before him.

“Mother,” Drew sighed, not sure if he should be annoyed or worried that she was repeating herself. From the corner of his eye, he could see Shea attempting to get off the floor and he rushed back to her to give her a hand.

She smiled at him and popped the last bite of… the very last remaining cinnamon roll into his mouth while - unaffected by what he thought was an obvious lack of interest in her unhelpful suggestions - his mother continued, “Azalea?”

“Mother, please.” 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Shea whispered, and he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked away. He couldn’t resist smiling as he watched her drag her fingers through the tray, licking up any remaining trace of food and he reminded himself silently that he would have to try making them with strawberry icing for her. 

“Marigold?” The squeal that followed made him jerk the phone from his ear and wince in pain. Rubbing his ringing ear he switched the phone to his other hand just in time to hear, “Oh, Drew, Mary Lipsky would be so cute!”

Exasperated beyond measure, he tore his gaze away from Shea’s backside and grumbled, “I am not naming my children after plants.” 

“But they could be little twin flowers!”

Lying to his mother for the second time in one short phone call didn’t make him feel particularly good, but it didn’t stop him from pointedly claiming, “I think I hear Shea calling for me, Mother! I have to go now!”

He almost began to cry when even claiming his eight months pregnant wife was calling for him didn’t stop her. “If it’s a little boy you could name him Cedar! Or Cypress. Or Oleander!”

“It’s twins, Mother,” he reminded impatiently. “It might be _two_ little boys. Goodbye!” 

He really did feel bad for hanging up, cutting off her farewells, but he was too tired of listening to her incessant rambling to care too much. 

Similarly to the way he had been not an hour earlier, Shea was staring at the list hard enough _his_ head ached. “What were your mother’s suggestions this time?” she teased when she saw him walk into the room, and she twirled an uncapped marker between her fingers. 

“They were all plant names.”

“Tell me anyway?”

After a moment of annoyed grumbling, he listed off the names, rolling his eyes when she added every single one to the list as if it weren’t tortuously long already. He sidled up behind her again, massaging down her back and hips before letting his hands rest lightly on her stomach, delighting in the slight movement beneath his palms as she continued to twirl the marker and glare at the wall.

He had let his head fall on her shoulder, his face nuzzled against her neck, and his eyes had begun fluttering shut by the time she whispered to him, “You know what? I kinda like Oleander, actually.”

“I do too,” he muttered against her skin, annoyed at himself for letting his mother get in his head. He’d been so confident that they would find names on their own, without anyone else’s help. “Little Olly... We’re not doing it.”

Shea laughed, presumably at how whiny he sounded, and reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “Middle name?”

“That… could work,” he mused as he stood up straighter and moved to face her as they talked. “But we’re not telling my mother!”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you just going to keep our children’s names a secret? Oh don’t pout,” she added as his face fell. “You know I just want to kiss you when you do.” 

Grinning, he rocked forward and landed a gentle kiss on her lips, happy to oblige anytime she even thought she might want a kiss from him.

“I kind of like Azalea for a middle name too,” she admitted as he pulled away. 

“Well, fine,” he whined, gesturing wildly at the list. “But picking their middle names doesn’t help if they still don’t have first names!”

“How is it that the brilliant Doctor Drakken could name all those schemes and inventions, but now can’t even name his own children?” 

He grunted and crossed his arms. “How is it that the great and powerful Shego could fight off teen heroes all day but now can’t even stand up off the floor on her own?”

“I’ve got two six-pound parasites growing in my stomach,” she laughed. “What’s your excuse?”

“Nngh– I love those parasites and their host too much to risk ruining their lives with names that don’t suit them!” He snapped his gaze back to the wall, glaring at the list with growing resentment. “I don’t want them to hate me,” he mumbled after a moment. “Giving them names that they grow up and get made fun of over would be the quickest way to get them to.”

“They’re never going to hate you, Drew,” she assured him, squeezing his hand. “You’re going to be the best dad they could possibly have. Come on, let’s just forget this for a little while.” 

Trying not to cry, he let her tug him to the door. “What are you doing?” he asked, giving her a watery smile and pushing his glasses aside to swipe at tears before they fell. 

“We should enjoy the snow for a few minutes,” she explained, tugging her coat over her arms. She held up her boots to him, which he slid on her feet and laced up for her before getting himself ready to go outside as well. 

“This might be our last childless snow,” he murmured while the two walked out into the haze of gently falling snowflakes. “And I can’t even throw snowballs at you.”

“The twins are on my snowball fight team as soon as they’re old enough!”

“Why do you get them both?”

“I just deserve it. You can have your flower help you.”

“It doesn’t like the cold!”

“Then I guess you’re just gonna lose.” She shrugged nonchalantly at him before turning her gaze up to the sky, opening her mouth to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

He really did love her. Which he supposed explained why he moved closer to whisper in her ear, “Wanna make a deal?”

“I don’t have a soul to sell. You know that.”

He laughed but shook his head. “Whoever picks the names for the twins gets them on their snowball fight team.”

“Oh,” Shea cackled, already turning on her heel. “You’re so on, nerdlinger.” 

He followed after her as she walked back into the kitchen, and while she plopped herself down at the table to resume staring at the list, he made himself busy making hot cocoa moo with an extra splash of cinnamon in her mug. 

“You know what?” he murmured, three cups of cocoa moo and two bags of popcorn later. His eyes burned and he felt like his brain had turned to liquid inside his head, from doing nothing more than thinking about the list for so long. 

“Hmm?” came Shea’s sleepy response, half-asleep with her head on his shoulder.

“I think we should erase the list. Maybe we’ll just know what to name them when we see them. What if we decided on names and then we see our babies and they don’t look like a Rosie or a Cypress?” 

“Tell you what, Doc,” she muttered. “I think that’s the first good baby name suggestion you’ve made in two months.”

Despite his objections to her statement, he made quick work of washing the list off the wall. As he turned back to her, a weight lifted off his shoulders despite the fact they never made a decision, he teased, “I suppose you were right, Shea. Lists _are_ lame.”


End file.
